


Blue Silk

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coulson can be a bonehead, Coulson is grumpy when he's tired, F/M, Hormones, Skye has Coulson issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-02-17 11:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2307623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye's fantasies about Director Coulson lead to an embarrassing situation for her when they end up alone in a safe house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to write one more chapter for this and ended up with a third. I hope you enjoy it.

 

**Blue Silk**

Skye stopped in the doorway. Her eyes roamed all around the large, one-level beach house. It was simply beautiful. 

"Why is this place so big?" she asked, finally moving to the side. Coulson stepped inside and placed his bag on the floor.

"Would you prefer to be cooped up in a one-bedroom condo instead?"

"No of course not. I mean, c'mon. Sharing a one-bedroom place with you for a week? Where would you even sleep?" she asked. Her mind quickly summoned up an image. One she’d spent countless nights fantasizing about. And that was simply Coulson in bed. She loved trying to figure out what he slept in. Boxers and a tee. A wife beater and pajama pants. Or maybe he slept completely naked. Hmmmm. It was around this time her thoughts hit the gutter at full speed.

"Don't you mean, where would you sleep? Because I would be sleeping on the bed.”  Coulson said.  

"I mean...you know what I meant, AC.  Speaking of beds, which room do you want?" she asked. It was Skye’s attempt at changing the subject. But the image in her head was doing a number on her pulse. Poor exhausted Coulson atop crisp white sheets, wearing boxers and a tee. Looking all sexy and delicious and— 

Coulson cleared his throat. "Where'd you go just now?" he asked, an amused smirk on his face.  

"W-what are you talking about?” she asked. "I didn't go anywhere.”

Coulson raised one eyebrow and said, “Tell that to your flushed face.”

Skye blushed deeper before saying, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

"So you heard me then? When I answered your question. Just now…”

He’d said something? Skye quickly rewound the last few moments in her mind's eye. She vaguely remembered that Coulson’s lips had been moving while she imagined him spread out lasciviously on his bed. Looking all hot and hard in all the right places. 

"Earth to Skye."

"What, AC?  She pushed past him. She pulled her suitcase behind her down the long hallway. "I'm exhausted. Are you going to pick out a room? Because I have no problem with taking first dibs,” she said.  Skye peeked inside of the first of five bedrooms. The room was large and beautifully appointed with a handsome king-sized, 4-poster bed positioned in the middle of the floor.  She hurried inside and fell backwards on the bed with her arms spread out like a snow angel. Coulson stood in the doorway for a beat before entering the room. His eyes raked over her body as he walked past the bed to the closet. 

“This is perfect!" Skye said. She was elated and beyond comfortable. She closed her eyes. Just for a moment, she thought. It took fifteen seconds to fall fast asleep. 

It had been a long drive from the Playground.  No extraneous stops to do normal things like sleep in a bed or eat at a table. Staying underneath the radar was no picnic. They’d changed vehicles three times. And Coulson had taken all back roads. Not even Skye knew where they were, or even what state they were in.  It had been a long, arduous road trip. And Coulson was insistent on driving straight through. The thought of being hurled off a cliff to their fiery deaths had kept her awake. Because If she was awake, Coulson was awake. She wouldn’t let him do anything but. Unable to relax for being on Coulson sleep guard, Skye became completely exhausted. 

“You’re right. It is perfect.  That’s why this room is mine,” Coulson said. 

He opened the closet and placed his bag on the floor. Skye’s uncharacteristic silence immediately informed him that she’d fallen asleep. Sighing, he approached the bed and stood over her. She appeared so peaceful at rest. Skye was a little fireball  - always in perpetual motion. The contrast between her awake and sleep states intrigued him. She literally looked like a sleeping angel, her hair fanned out around her head like the largest halo ever.  It was interesting seeing her like this. He couldn’t remember noticing the delicate curve of her cheekbones or the perfect pout of her lips before then. Before he knew it, Coulson was cataloging her entire body. His eyes roamed freely without reservation. The flimsy tank top that hugged her breasts kept him transfixed for a while. Down her torso past her navel to the mound not at all disguised by her equally flimsy shorts. Sure they were comfortable, but they were really doing a number on his libido. Frustrated and maybe a little ashamed, he snatched his eyes away.  

With a gentle shake of her shoulder, he said, “Skye, wake up.” Her eyes struggled to open. They were slow to focus on him standing over her.

“How long have I been asleep?” she said, groggily. “Better question, why are you still in my room?” she said, rubbing her eyes.

“Because, Skye. This is my room.”

"Wait...you already chose this room?”

"Skye, really? It’s late and I’m exhausted.”

“But I like this one,”  she said, propping herself up on her elbows.  “There are four other rooms to choose from. Besides, you so did not choose one already.”

“This is an old SHIELD safe house. I’ve been here before. Many times, in fact. And this is the room I always sleep in. So get your ass off my bed and find another one,”  he said. 

“The gentlemanly thing to do would be to let me have it." she said, her voice low and even. Were she and Director Coulson fighting? Over a bedroom?  His bedroom, apparently? Coulson's eyes lit up.

"Oh no," Skye said.

"What?" 

"That look in your eyes is a pain in my ass." 

 She sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed. It was so tall that her feet were left dangling several inches above the floor. Coulson grabbed her hands and pulled her body from the bed to her feet. They ended up standing toe-to-toe, inches apart.

"Tell me what you were thinking about earlier and the room is yours.”

Skye blushed. “You’re not playing fair, Director Coulson."

"Fair is a matter of perspective, Agent Skye.” 

His voice sounded sticky. Sticky and sweet like the yummiest cinnamon bun ever.  Skye wanted to lick it. Her thoughts were completely out of control. She took an involuntarily step backwards. Almost as if anticipating her retreat, Coulson stepped forward in concert with her backwards step. He moved with confidence. His advance put them back where they started. Inches apart.  A warm feeling blossomed in the pit of her belly and spread downward. 

“Well?” He asked. His eyes bore into hers. 

“I wasn’t thinking about anything, AC. I’m just tired.”

“You’re lying,” he said. Skye averted her eyes and wondered why his voice sounded like hot sex melted down and cooled just right.  And that’s when the image of him on the huge 4-poster bed traipsed through her thoughts. This time, he was completely naked. He was erect.  And he was looking directly at her.  

“Oh my God,” she said, shaking her head. Like that would get the images out. 

“Are you ok?” Coulson asked.

“I’m…fine,” she replied, still shaking her head. She was obviously very sleep deprived. Her filter was practically non-existent when she was sleep deprived. The only remedy was to leave his presence as quickly as possible and get some damn sleep.  Then she would be back to normal.  This was the longest time she’d spent alone with the man ever. In fact, she hadn’t been alone for more than twenty minutes for the better part of a week. It was time for some Skye time and loads of rest. She’d embarrassed herself enough for one night.

“You know what? You’re right.  You spent all that time getting us here safe and sound. You deserve first pick,” she said, backing out of the door and into the hallway. “I’ll just find another one, and —“ With that she as gone. 

Skye picked a room clear down the hall from Coulson’s. She closed the door, and fell backwards on the bed. “You are so stupid, Skye,” she said.  She tried to review everything embarrassing  that just happened, but her brain was simply too tired. Within two minutes, she was drifting off to sleep. Her last lucid thought was: Oh crap! I left my bag in Coulson’s room.

It was 4 am, and Skye was barefoot. Her over-sized sleep shirt swished around her bare legs as  she crept down the hallway. She stopped just before passing Coulson’s room. The bedroom door was open. She peeped inside and found him asleep on the huge 4-poster bed. It was dark, but the night’s full moon provided just enough light.  And once her eyes adjusted she could see.  She could see that he was wearing a pair of silk pajama pants. They were solid blue with a drawstring waist. To say they left nothing to the imagination was a nicety. Skye’s mouth fell open.  He obviously was not wearing any underwear. 

“Damn,” she whispered before slapping a hand over her mouth. Coulson stirred. Skye quickly backed up and flattened her body against the wall. Her heart was beating widely. Adrenaline coursed through her body. She had to get out of there - she couldn’t get caught. How would that look? Tiptoeing around in the Director’s bedroom while he slept, innocently. Skye thought about how sexy he looked stretched out on the bed. He hadn’t looked so innocent. She bet he didn’t taste so innocent either. Skye rolled her eyes hard. What was up with her all of a sudden? Had she always been this hot for Coulson?

Several long months had passed since her last sexual encounter. The romp with her ex-boyfriend, Miles was an ill-timed quickie, and felt like a lifetime ago. She and Director Coulson were on the road for four long days mostly alone in cramped quarters.  Things were destined to get a little confusing. It’s not like she hadn’t felt attracted to him before their little road trip. Before she’d been forced to take two weeks off with him.

This was all his doing. This was clearly his fault. She could’ve stayed at the Playground. She would’ve been just fine there for two weeks alone! Well, except for the team coming in to do renovation work. When Coulson found out that she planned to stay, he was livid.

~*~*~*~

“I gave you a direct order, Skye.” It was the first time Director Coulson had raised his voice to her in months.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t think you would mind if I stayed here,” she said. 

“Why would I mind? I only gave the explicit order for everyone to vacate. Of course that wouldn’t include you!” 

“C’mon, Coulson.”

“There is no place here for you to stay.”

“I know, but if you would just here me out.”

“They will be ripping up flooring, reworking electrical wiring, plumbing.”

“I realize that, AC, but please let me ex-“

“The place will be uninhabitable for two weeks, which is why I gave the express order for everyone to vacate. Take two weeks off. Stay under the radar.”

“You’re not going to let me speak, are you?”

“You even created the fake IDs and profiles for everyone. Fake passports were issued. But no, it was A-OK for you, Skye to stay at the Playground alone?” This time, Skye stayed quiet. “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” 

“Director, sir,” she said, starting off slowly. “I planned to stay on the bus, not inside the actual facility itself.

“Unacceptable. You had a month to prepare. You should have made plans.”

“To go where? I have no friends outside of the team. Where would I go? If I’m being forced to spend two weeks alone, I’d rather do it on my own terms,” she said, looking up at him, her chin jutted forward. 

Coulson could tell that she was putting up a good front. But he clearly saw the pain behind the facade. Skye was a loner. Her last connection to the outside world was MIles. And as far as he knew, she’d completely ended that relationship months before. He felt like a heel for yelling at her. She was a tough cookie, though. She could handle it. 

“Then it’s settled. You’re coming with me.”

~*~*~*~

Skye risked another peep inside the room. She hadn’t heard him move for at least a minute.  It was now or never. She wanted her suitcase with her stuff. Her much needed stuff like her toothbrush. Her hair products and deodorant. Her clothes. That was why she was there, yes. It was the sole reason for her sneaking around in the wee hours of the morning. Coulson stirred again and turned on his side. Skye sighed. He was still asleep. She poked her head in and looked about the room. There was no sign of her suitcase. Her face fell. Where was her stuff?  Did he put it in the closet?

Skye tiptoed into the room. So far so good. She was nearly at the closet when a voice pierced the darkness.

“I left your suitcase in your room.” The sound of his voice caused her to jump and squeal loudly.

“Oh crap, you’re awake?” 

Coulson switched on the bedside lamp.

“From the moment you left your bedroom,” he said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No, I’m…fine,” Skye said, her hand to her heart. She looked anything but fine. Coulson held in a chuckle.

“I took it to your room ten minutes after you left. You looked so tired, I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

“I didn’t see it.”

“It’s on the floor of your closet.” 

Skye nodded. Her brain was being overloaded by the vision of Coulson on his side. No shirt. Just silk pajamas. He looked like sex.  Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as she stood in his room in the middle of the night. It didn’t dawn on her that she wasn’t wearing any pants until she felt his eyes on her legs. 

He was looking at her differently. Sure, she’d caught him checking out various body parts here and there. He was, first and foremost, a man. But this time was different. This time felt different. He wasn’t leering, but his eyes were lingering. Her breathing shallowed. She felt her heart rate pick up. A flush blossomed across her cheeks and neck. A familiar warmth returned to her belly. It feathered out, deepened, settled in her groin. She continued to watch him watch her. Her skin was ablaze with the touch of his gaze. 

She hadn’t meant to do it. It was a particularly bold move on her part. Without ever deciding to, Skye allowed her eyes to wander.  From his face to his mouth. Down past his neck and throat, where they lingered for a moment. Moving on to his chest, nice. Then his stomach, very nice. Skipping down to his toes, they traveled slowly upward taking in all the details of his muscular legs wrapped in blue silk. His balls, wrapped in blue silk. His cock wrapped in…And there her eyes stayed for a while; took a short respite of sorts. His penis looked lonely. It looked remarkably lonely. This must be remedied. She started moving towards the bed, but Coulson met her halfway. 

They stood in the middle of the room, their eyes locked. His eyes were pools of darkness rimmed in blue and wanton need.

“Skye,” he breathed. Her name sounded like a melody on his tongue. “This is wrong.” 

“I don’t care,” she replied.  Protocol? What protocol? She didn’t give a rat’s ass about right or wrong procedure at that moment. All she knew was this: If he didn’t touch her soon, she would die.

He closed any semblance of space between them in one giant step. In the passing of a single breath his mouth was on hers. They drank each other in.  His tongue slipped inside her mouth and wrestled with hers. She loved the taste of him. And he was an amazing kisser. She wasn’t so bad herself. She broke free for a second before tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth.  Coulson moaned. Encouraged, Skye snaked her hand around his neck and deepened their kiss. Coulson threaded his fingers through her thick hair and grabbed a handful. With a gentle tug, he tilted her head to the side and grazed her neck with his lips, barely touching the skin.  The sensation was electrifying. A full body shiver spread through Skye and into Coulson. He pulled her into a tight embrace. She snuggled against his neck and inhaled deeply. His scent had grown familiar to her on their road trip. And at that moment, it spiked something feral inside of her, something dark an needy. Soon all she knew was want. 

“I need you,” he said, into her ear. His voice was raw, and dripping with desire. “I need you. Right…now.” 

In a bold move, Coulson placed both of his hands on Skye’s hips and slowly ground their lower bodies together. She moaned throatily when her clitoris made contact with his cock over and over in achingly slow precision. His hips were moving in a sensual manner that was leaving her witless. She imagined what his ass looked like as his hips swayed so provocatively. Before she could form another thought, she was two handfuls deep in grabbing hold of his ass. She pulled him closer, amplifying the pressure against her.  They rode out the sway of his hips together. It was delicious torment, having him so close, yet not close enough. She wanted to feel all of him.  She wanted him inside of her.  Her legs began to weaken with the intensity, the need. Soon she was pulling his head closer to her hot, needy mouth. A jolt of electricity swept through them when their lips rejoined. The kiss was both gentle and hungry at once. His thick tongue slipped easily into her mouth stopping briefly to taste her bottom lip before plunging inside. Slowly, he backed her towards the nearest wall. When she made contact, he raised both hands to her face to lovingly caressing her cheek while smoothing the hair from her eyes.  All the while grinding into her slowly, deeply and at a punishing angle. His now rock-hard cock made repeated contact with her swollen clitoris. She was nearly over the edge. 

Skye moaned. “Coulson, please.”

He moved like a panther. Before she knew what was happening, her sleep tee was on the floor. And she was on his bed on her back, her hands gripping his hips as he moved between her thighs. She moaned out his name. Coulson. Coulson.

 

“Coulson.”

“Skye? Wake up. You’re dreaming.”

She opened her eyes to find him leaning over her bed watching her. He looked confused. And turned on.

“What are you doing in my room? She asked, yanking the covers up to her armpits.

“You were calling me,” he said, simply. The unspoken truth hung in the air. A truth neither of them were ready to face.

“What are you talking about, Coulson,” she said, as the horror of what was happening slowly dawned on her. “I wasn’t calling you.” 

Had she really called out his name in her sleep?

“Yes, you were,” he said. The beginnings of a smug smirk hung on his mouth. Soon it would be full-blown, cock-sure and for good reason.

“I’m sure you’re mistaken,” was all she could come up with. 

Coulson tilted his head to the side and wordlessly communicated about eighteen sentences, starting with: I’ll believe that when pigs fly. Skye wanted to yell at his face to shut up. Instead, she maintained her cool. She had absolutely no idea what he was referring to. That was her story. She was sticking to it. Moving on…

“Now if you wouldn’t mind leaving so that I can get ready to face the day.” 

Coulson straightened out his face and said,  “Breakfast is ready. You’re cooking dinner.” 

He was out the door moments later. But not before she had the chance to eyeball his attire. Skye could not believe it. Because what was her dear director wearing, but a pair of blue, silk pajama pants and a white wife beater. And the way the silk hugged his ass as his hips sashayed out of the room was pure sin. Skye swallowed hard. 

“No. Freaking. Way.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Skye emerged from her room, her hair still wet from the shower. It was time to face the music. She stepped lightly on her way to the kitchen. To her breakfast. To her doom!  

The smell of coffee and waffles wafted through the air.  Skye loved waffles. And on any other morning, she would’ve speed walked the entire way. But this was a special occasion. She was about to face the music. The hymn of her embarrassment. The cadence of her undoing.  

What would she say if he asked about her dream? How would she respond? Would she be able to play it off?  To pretend it was just some random, run-of-the-mill, boring, basic-as-they-come, everyday kind of dream? That it hadn’t involved very vivid sex with her ridiculously hot boss? Her head felt like it was about to explode. She was thinking too much. 

She rubbed her temples and continued her slow approach. 

Dead Woman Walking. 

She was coming up on Coulson’s room. Skye couldn’t resist taking a peep inside. It was a quick peep. The kind thrown out the corner of one’s eye, hoping nobody would see it. His room door was open and he was nowhere in sight. His neatly-made bed greeted her. It had no stories to tell.  Her thoughts returned to the morning’s debacle and she wondered: How much had he actually seen? Heard? What did he know? She hurried the rest of the way to the kitchen. He wouldn’t still be eating, would he? Her shower had taken at least thirty minutes. No way he was still - 

“Good Morning, Skye,” Coulson greeted her as she rounded the corner. He was seated at the table waiting for her.

She slowly raised her eyes to meet his. He looked…normal. He didn’t seem to be having a good time. In his head. At her expense. He was just, well…he was just Coulson. And apparently he’d had enough time to shower.  And change into cargo shorts. And blue and white athletic shoes. And a white v-neck tee. He looked as fresh as morning dew. He looked scrumptious. 

Skye felt the familiar stirrings of arousal that seemed to go hand-in-hand with her boss lately. Sure, she could blame it on a lack of sex. She could even blame it on the way he sometimes looked at her. How his eyes occasionally did this twinkling thing. The way he held eye contact with her longer than he did with anyone else on the team. There was definitely something between them. Even more so now that they shared the same alien DNA. But there had never been anything concrete. Solid. Tangible. And she was tired of it. It was time to call bullshit.  If only she could only work up enough courage to-

“Have a seat,” he said. In his hand was a cup of tea, and on the table, their breakfast. A blissful array of homemade waffles and strawberries. Scrambled eggs, coffee, sugar, cream. There was even a small bottle of real maple syrup, slices of pure butter and a tray of juicy red grapes. A pitcher of orange juice and a bottle of champagne sat in the center. 

Mimosas? Skye was impressed. She was majorly impressed.

“Good Morning,” she said and sat across from him. It was a large eat-in kitchen with smooth, modern surfaces draped in blue and silver tones. She could get used to this. A beautiful house at the beach. Her sexy boss making her breakfast. Tending to all of her needs. Her mind began to drift. There was one part of the dream she couldn’t stop thinking about. And it was surprisingly, not sexual. But it was hot. It was the part where he smoothed the hair out of her eyes and away from her face. There was something about it that grabbed hold of her and wouldn’t let go. No matter how hard she’d tried. It haunted her. It was going to be her undoing. She must’ve had that faraway look on her face again because Coulson cleared his throat. Loudly. Skye snapped to attention.

“Dig in,” he said, a puzzled look in his eyes. He placed his cup of tea on the table and watched as a smile engulfed her face. 

“Wow, AC. You really went all out. I didn’t know you had this in you,” she said, nodding at the feast.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said. His eyebrows flicked up for emphasis. And there was that twinkle in his eyes again. It disappeared the moment he blinked.

Skye frowned. Was he fucking toying with her?  “I think I’ll start with some waffles,”  she said, eyeing him warily. She stabbed a waffle with her fork and lifted it to her plate.  Strawberries and syrup followed. Her mouth was salivating. Damn, she was hungry. 

One bite was all it took. Her eyes grew wide. A look of amazement claimed her face. “Wow. Wow! These are really good! What did you do…how-?” She cut herself off with another forkful. 

“Mimosa?” he asked. Skye nodded and hummed as she chewed away. Coulson stood and poured two large glasses. She took a sip as he returned to his seat. Raising his glass, he said, “To us.”

Skye choked. Coulson was by her side in an instant. “Are you ok,” he asked, leaning in close. 

Her body stiffened and hunched as a series of coughs rippled through her. Yet all she could do was wonder: Why was he so close, smelling so good all up in her personal space? Being all protective. Being all sexy. And why was she thinking about that? She was dying! 

Another series of coughs worked through her system. Coulson placed a gentle hand in the center of her back. He rubbed soothing circles into her tank top. The musty notes of his aftershave drifted on the air. Her mind quickly conjured up an image of Coulson shaving. A towel knotted low and loose around his hips. The knot was starting to fail. The towel was falling…

“Are you ok?” he asked. The hand on her back stilled while he waited for her answer.

“I’m fine. It just went down the wrong pipe.” Her voice sounded frazzled. Coulson stayed put. He obviously hadn’t bought it. Heat emanated from his palm. His breath grazed her cheek. Almost as if on cue, her face blushed, deep. Magenta. He continued to watch her. She could feel his eyes on her face, her neck. Her sparse shorts seemed even shorter when she was seated. Skye wondered if he had also looked at her thighs.

“I’m fine,” she said, her eyes flickered in his direction. His lips were in her direct line of sight. She fought the urge to bite the bottom one. 

Skye quickly returned her gaze to the table. “I really am fine, Coulson, please. Don’t fuss over me,” she said. His hand remained fixed on her back. It slid downward as he leaned in. He was moving in closer. Why was he moving in closer? She gazed up just in time to find his lips on an odd trajectory. They landed on the top of her head. He pressed in a gentle kiss. Skye shivered.

“No choking. It’s a safe house rule,” he said as he sat back in his chair. 

After breakfast, Skye took her glass to the living room and lounged on one of the sofas. She was finally relaxed for the first time all morning. Four mimosas hadn’t hurt. She felt good, warm. Not quite drunk but definitely not sober. Coulson sat in an adjacent chair watching television. She observed him in profile, sitting there. The rise and fall of his chest. The way the V-neck showed just a touch of his chest hair.  She wondered if he could feel her eyes on him. Wondered if he cared.

Skye sighed long. Hard. This was frustrating. She wanted him. That much she knew without a trace of doubt. Especially after the dream she’d had. So why was she so afraid? Why couldn’t she just get up, walk over to his chair. Stand in front of the television. Force his attention on her. Make him notice her. 

Why couldn’t she slowly sit across his lap. Ask him to tell her a story while she nibbled on his ear. What was stopping her? There was no one else there. She could have his undivided attention, at least for a short while. 

“I think I’ll take a walk along the beach,” she said. Skye attempted to stand, but she was dreadfully unsteady on her feet. Her bottom returned to the sofa cushion with a loud plopping sound. Apparently she was more intoxicated than she previously thought. Coulson turned. A smile threatened to curved his lips.

“You’re staying put,” he said. His voice was clear as a bell. She’d personally witnessed him drink half the bottle of champagne. So how could this be?

“Why aren’t you drunk or at least tipsy?” she asked. She really was curious.

“Oh, I was tipsy.”

“When?”

“An hour ago. For about ten minutes,” he said, smiling. He returned his attention to the television.

“No! Way!” she exclaimed and fought her way to standing. This time she waited a little until her head evened out. Stumbling, she crossed the room and stopped beside the easy chair where Coulson sat. 

“What would you do if I sat in your lap right now?” she asked. She was standing really close to him. Towering over him. She felt powerful, bold.

“You’re not nearly drunk enough to do anything that stupid,” he said. 

“Sure. But what would you do? If I was stupid enough to crawl into your lap.” she said. There was a sultry edge to her voice. One that she’d never used with him before. Not ever - not in all of their on again, off again flirtations. It was spicy, tempting. It fully engaged Coulson’s attention. 

“What would you do?” she whispered.

He turned to look up at her. “Skye, sit your drunk ass down,” he said firmly before cutting his eyes back to the television.  

Skye contemplated the order and nearly obeyed him like a good little agent should. But then, something odd and intriguing occurred to her. His breathing had changed. And she would know. She’d just spent several long minutes watching him. And the shallow thing he was currently doing? Well, that was different. Director Coulson was affected. And that was enough to replenish her boldness. So she savored it, wrapped it up tight and saved it for another day. 


	3. Chapter 3

Three days later…

The night was breezy. Breezy and pitch black. Where were the stars? Coulson sat alone on the deck overlooking the ocean.  It was peaceful and except for the waves lapping against the shore, it was quiet. Too quiet.

They had one more night and one more day before hitting the road. Again. Coulson was not looking forward to it. At least things were going smoothly enough at the beach house. Except for the fact that he and Skye had grown increasingly uncomfortable around one another. 

So she’d called out his name in her sleep.  What did he care that she occasionally  dreamed about him? He pushed back the mental images. He pushed them down, down. Down! There was no way he was reliving that. Not if he could help it.

He couldn’t help it. 

 _Coulson. Coulson…_ The timbre of her voice echoed in his ears. It was throaty and scratchy and smooth all at once. She was calling, no moaning out his name. He shouldn’t have entered her room. He’d never had a choice. Her guttural tones tugged on him. A lasso around his neck. A leash, a collar?  He was defenseless against the pull. His feet moved of their own volition. Who’d given them a will? Who’d said they could choose? The moment he stood in her doorway he knew. There was no turning back. He couldn't un-see, un-hear. Un-feel. And boy did he feel. He’d gotten bone hard so fast. Like whiplash. Whiplash of the dick. 

It was on repeat play in his head like a entire playlist of the same one song. Except it was Skye’s voice calling out his name throatily during the throes of a passionate dream. He’d awakened her because he felt guilty. Because he didn’t want to know. He couldn’t know what she looked like when she came. Could he? Would that be so wrong? 

It was so, so wrong. He knew that. Of course he knew that.

Only, he remembered every detail. The way her erect nipples strained against the fabric of her tank. The sheen of perspiration that covered her dewy skin. The pool of sweat that gathered in the sensitive dip of her neck. Her plump lips, slightly open and quivering. She was frowning as if in pain. But it was a sweet pain. The kind you wanted to feel over and over and over. It was when her hands slipped beneath the covers on a dive bomb for her mound that he snapped out of it and shook her awake. 

It was the _right_ decision, he knew that as sure as he knew his own name.

It was _the_ right decision. _Tell that to your other…head._

It WAS the right decision! He’d told himself that a thousand times. _Tell that to your warped mind._

Dammit! 

**It was the right decision!**

For the last three days he’d refused to deal with it - with her. And to make matters even more tense, her drunken suggestion of sitting on his lap had not helped their situation at all. Soon, the distance between them grew into a mini chasm. She’d tried repeatedly to engage him in conversation, tried to lighten up the mood; but he was having difficulty wrapping his mind around everything, and in true stubborn male fashion, pushed everything to the rear of his mind. He’d deal with it another day.

Coulson stood and meandered over to the deck railing.  Just then, the clouds parted and a sliver of moonlight made its way to earth, illuminating a patch of ground in his line of sight. Something glistened.  No, it couldn’t be.  He jogged down the stairs and walked around the side of the deck.  And that’s when he could see. It was exactly what he’d thought it was. Twelve tiny shells of varying shades formed a heart in the dirt. Except it looked like a few shells were missing.  Had a small animal dragged a few off? Coulson stared at the figure for a while and then it hit him. Nothing was missing. The heart was incomplete. The heart was broken. Coulson sighed. He picked up the shell forming the furthermost dip of the heart and held it to his ear.  It sounded like the truth. 

 The (enormous) mini chasm had sparked the desire within Skye to be alone. To walk the shore alone. To gather beautiful shiny shells alone. To watch television alone, to workout alone. To do mostly everything alone. He’d done that. This was his fault. Because what choice had he given her? She was practically screaming at him to notice her. Like a silent film running slightly out of focus. He could see it if he didn’t look directly at her. In the periphery of his vision it lived, screaming to his stupid deaf ears. 

His eyes returned to the tiny shells and the heart they nearly formed.  This was her doing, of course. She’d gone off one afternoon. In her hand was a giant picnic basket he’d never seen before.  He couldn’t imagine why a safe house needed one, but she must’ve dug it up from some place.  

Because Skye was going stir crazy. And he had no idea how to remedy that. So he offered to go with her to wherever it was she was going. She was less than thrilled with the prospect. And he would be lying to say that hadn’t hurt his feelings.  But he smiled easily and waved her off. And as she walked away, he felt his heart thud in his chest right before it sank. 

He rubbed his thumb across the little shell, careful to feel every intricate ridge. It looked so smooth, so perfect. Until you touched it. He tossed it high in the air and caught it. Sometimes, it’s ok to be imperfect. It’s ok not to try so damn hard. To let go and just….be.  A soft breeze caressed his face. He closed his eyes and let it relax away his worries. It was warm and smelled salty, fresh. It smelled like another chance. He returned the shell to it’s rightful place. To the bow of the imperfect heart made in the dirt. Because that’s where it belonged, he could see that now. One more night meant one more chance. The clouds once again obscured the moon, leaving the sky black.  But Coulson was ok with that, for his heart held a new light. And it was a light of hope. A hope that he could make things right. He took off for a walk along the beach. One more night was all they had. He needed a clear head and a plan. 

~*~*~*~*

The following morning, Coulson awoke to the smell of pancakes. Actually, his mouth woke him. It was salivating and trying to drown him in his sleep. He threw on his robe and padded out to the kitchen. Skye was cooking. Why was Skye cooking? It was way too early for Skye to voluntarily do anything. He stood at the edge of the kitchen, speechless. She was wearing a pair of headphones and bopping her head to something akin to music. From where he stood, it sounded like death. From the looks of it, breakfast was nearly ready. He was just about to leave when Skye said,

“Good morning, Director,” with a big fat smile. Coulson looked on semi-shocked. Who was this person so happy and chipper at 6:00 am?

“Skye?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you up so early?”

“Well, it’s our last day and I thought I’d make it a full one before being trapped in God knows how many vehicles for how many days? Three? Four? I’ve forgotten. It was all a blur. All a big fat, table-less, bed-less blur. I am so not looking forward to the return trip.”  

This was literally more than Skye had said to him in three days. 

“We’re not leaving today,” he said gently. 

Skye stopped what she was doing. Put down the pancake spatula. Removed her headphones. Untied her apron and yanked it over her head. Folding and walking and looking shocked and somewhat unhappy, she approached him.  She stopped right in front of Coulson.

“Excuse me?” she said. And it was a serious, inquiry.  She searched his eyes for clues while waited for his answer.

“We are not leaving today.” 

“Then when are we leaving?”

“We’re leaving in three days. I contacted May. We’re driving to the closest private landing strip where she’’ll be waiting to fly us home. So no  long trip through the brush and along the sides of mountains. We’re going home in style.”

“Ok,” Skye said. 

Ok?  All she had to say was ok? There was no sign of joy on her face. In fact, there was no sign of any emotion whatsoever. She simply walked away, leaving the kitchen. Leaving her breakfast. 

Leaving him.

Coulson was baffled. What was going on here? He thought she’d be thrilled to fly home. To see May. To be able to relax on the beach for three more days.  Well, apparently not. Coulson sighed long and through his nose. 

“Skye…” he said as he walked towards her room. She did not respond. He knocked on the door. She still didn’t respond. “Skye, I know you’re in there. We need to talk.” Still no response. So what does Coulson do? He opens her door while saying, “I’m coming in…”

And there was Skye, standing with her back to a full-length mirror. She was wearing her headphones. She was wearing a thong. She was wearing absolutely nothing else. 

Coulson was rendered speechless. Motionless.  Witless… He stood there staring, no, gawking at his young agent in a most un-Director-like manner. His eyes, well they were the only things moving. Up and down. All, ALL around, from her toes to her lips and back down to her thighs then to her breasts before diving back down to her toes and repeating the entire process again and again and - 

“See something you like, Director?” Skye said, her voice taunted him. Challenged him.  It yanked Coulson out of his trance-like state. He’d never found the occasion to blush in her presence until then. 

He turned magenta. 

“Skye, I…I knocked,” he stammered. Yet, he still had not stopped looking at her body. It was like a disorder of some kind. A wicked disease! He willed his eyes to stop. His will was lacking. 

Through it all, Skye had not moved an inch. Not to cover up. Not even to block her breasts from his view with her arm. She stood shock still. Posing. Letting him look. Letting him see. It couldn’t have lasted more than 30 seconds. It felt like eternity. Plus five or six years. 

“Dammnit, Skye! Cover up!” he finally said. Aaaaand he was still looking.

“This is my room.”   

“I know that, but-“

“This - is - my - room. You barged in here into _my_ space. I have the right to be half buck-ass naked in my own room,” she stated evenly. 

Coulson backed into the hallway and gently closed the door behind him.   It was only then that he noticed her lack of tan lines. This was not part of his plan. 

 As soon as the door hit its frame, Skye began to shake. She crossed the room to her bed and had a seat. 

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, the director saw my tits!” she said into her hands. After a few moments it dawned on her. He’d seen her ass too! Skye stood and returned to the mirror. She looked at herself and did a 360. “And my tits and ass look good,” she said, nodding in agreement. She smiled at her reflection with pride. It was short lived. Memories of how soundly Coulson had shut her out over the past few days trickled in and cut off her happy moment. “Shit. He’s going to go full hermit after this,” she said to her reflection.

Just then, a loud knock came at her door. “Skye, meet me in the living room in five minutes,” the director said in a stern, I’m-in-charge, voice. Skye frowned and threw on her shorts and top. 

“You wanted to see me,” she said. Coulson was seated in an armchair waiting. He looked tired.

“Have a seat.” Skye sat opposite him on the loveseat. 

“We need to talk.”

“Ok?”

“I wanted to apologize for barging in on you,” he said earnestly. Remnants of his earlier embarrassment  had stayed behind to stain his neck. 

Skye knew that he was being sincere, but she simply could not help it. She started laughing. Right in his face, she did, and she was loud. Snorting. Nearly doubled over in mirth at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. 

“This is highly inappropriate, Skye,” he said. A huge frown wrinkled his brow. Skye was holding her stomach now and lying sideways on the sofa, rolling in laughter. “Skye…” 

“I’m…so..sorry, AC! I…just…can’t…help…it!” she managed as she tried to calm herself down. Coulson for his part looked perplexed. The creases between his eyebrows slowly gave way as the corners of his mouth quirked. He watched her with an awestruck expression as she continued to laugh and laugh and laugh. The sound was so freeing. It rippled through the air and broke three days worth of his stubborn, non-communicative assery. Soon, Coulson was smiling. The tension eased out of his shoulders and neck and he leaned back in his chair just watching Skye laugh until everything was ok. 

Once her laughter died down, Skye sat up and wiped her tearing eyes before focusing them on Coulson.

“Skye…” he started, the sincerity back in his voice.

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Skye said, holding up a finger. She stood and walked over to where Coulson sat and planted herself on the arm of his chair. “I know it was an accident. But it’s just tits and ass, Coulson,” she said, softly.

“Yes. But they were _your_ tits and _your_ ass.”

“So?”

“So, I never would’ve-“

“Shhh.” Skye leaned in and kissed him on the lips. 

He hesitated for a moment but Skye was determined. Grabbing the back of his head with both hands, she gently pressed their faces together. And it was like he deflated only to inflate instantaneously. He slanted his mouth over hers. One strong hand kneaded her thigh hungrily while the other pulled her closer by the nape of her neck. The kiss was sensual and deep and everything Skye ever imagined kissing Coulson would be. She didn’t want it to stop. She slid off the arm of the chair into Coulson’s lap. His cock jerk against her ass. 

“Ooh Director Coulson. Is that your cell phone or are you happy to see me?” she said playfully.  Coulson chuckled deep and raw before pulling her in for another long, hot kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Lilljk for looking it over and making some pretty sweet suggestions.


End file.
